


Not All You Know

by Ally147



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: EgoShipping, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1530035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ally147/pseuds/Ally147
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What sort of twisted, barbaric Christmas present was this anyway? What the hell was he meant to tell her? 'I'm a liar and a bastard, and anything and everything you've ever heard about me has been a carefully constructed lie'?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not All You Know

**Author's Note:**

> This was written Christmas 2013. Features an almost gratuitous amount of sexual references, but no actual explicit sex.

Gary Oak was in a state of panic.

His shirt had long been discarded, and he was lying on a large bed covered in silky, dark blue sheets that he held in a death-grip. There were cinnamon scented candles lit, and there was sensual music playing somewhere in the background. There was gorgeous woman at his feet, clad only in lacy ruby red underwear ( _underwear_ , for God's sake!) and a Santa hat, inching her way slowly down his body to unfasten his jeans. He tensed, and his eyes widened as her hand brushed lightly over the denim covering the hardening length between his thighs. His mind raced with excuses, anything to get him out right then and there. He wasn't ready for this! What sort of twisted, barbaric Christmas present was this anyway? What the hell was he meant to tell her? 'I'm a liar and a bastard, and anything and everything you've ever heard about me has been a carefully constructed lie'?

He snorted inwardly and fought to keep the scowl from reaching his features. Merry fucking Christmas, indeed.

Everything about his personal life, specifically the notion that he was some sort of philandering man whore, was one little white lie after another that he did nothing to dispel, but nothing to encourage either. He actually rather liked the reputation that come along with it, and he learned very quickly that he never actually had to sleep with the women that threw themselves at him like moths to a flame to maintain such an illusion, people just had to think he did.

At the age of twenty-six, an age where most everyone he knew had already gone through a variety of sexual partners with, he had noticed, little regard for compatibility or any sort of feeling for them, Gary had yet to have one. Before now, the farthest he had gone with a woman had occurred a little over a year ago with a pretty little thing named Leaf. She had only gotten as far as placing her hand on his belt buckle before he had panicked, though he had hidden it well as he smirked and pushed her away, calling her a slag for even daring to touch him in such a way. He disappeared after that, telling the congregation that always seemed to surround him that he was leaving to try his luck elsewhere. Instead, he had run home in a flurry of sexual frustration and annoyance, running himself a cold shower and working himself furiously to release before falling into bed, alone again, cursing himself for his lack of follow through.

He wasn't entirely sure what stopped him when opportunities arose. Lord knew he _wanted_ to have sex, and rather desperately, too. He was rather well-endowed, and quite good-looking too if he did say so himself, so it wasn't insecurity. It wasn't a lack of knowledge either; Gary consumed sexual literature as though it were gospel. He knew all there was to know about the clitoris and the 'g-spot', not to mention an almost encyclopedic knowledge of a variety of positions. He rather reveled in the attention his reputation afforded him too, even if he found the women that paid the most attention to be tragic to the point of hilariousness, so it wasn't as though he was uncomfortable per se with the notion of losing his virginity. So that only left him with the idea that perhaps his grandfather had been successful in drilling into his head the woefully outdated concept of waiting for 'the right one'.

He watched the woman slowly undressing him with a soft expression, reaching a hand down to brush through her fiery red hair, knocking off her silly hat in the process. If, when he was ten years old, someone had told him he would one day fall completely and irrevocably in love with Misty Waterflower, he would have laughed his head off and told them to jump off a cliff. After all, Misty wasn't your stereotypical beauty, and certainly not the sort of girl he would have ever pictured himself with. She was the type of girl you didn't really notice until you noticed her, and dear God, did he notice at her.

It was an utter cliché of a re-meeting, he remembered fondly. A little over six months ago, their hands met over the same last carton of mango yoghurt in the supermarket, complete with a spark between them as their fingers touched. Not to be outdone by the magic of the moment though, Misty had (in what he later learned to be a rather typical Misty reaction) exploded, stubbornly refusing to give an inch, adamant that it was her hand that had made contact with the yoghurt first, therefore it was hers. So floored had he been by recognising the feisty red-head ten years after their last meeting, and more than a little taken with just how bloody gorgeous she was when angry, he likely would have agreed to anything, even if his hand had quite clearly been the first to make contact with the yoghurt.

He didn't think she recognised him that day, though she did seem a little more worked up than a person should have been over the prospect of missing out on yoghurt. After that day, club visits had been few and far between as an almost alarming amount of his attention went into wooing the fiery red-head, though she hadn't paid him any mind until two months after that day.

Admittedly though, he thought on as he stifled a whimper when Misty successfully tugged his jeans off before crawling her way back up his body to kiss him feverishly again, his hands moving to stroke up and down her spine, he had been absolutely terrible at trying to get her attention. His only experiences with women up until that point had come from his interactions with his sister and bar sluts, experiences hardly conducive to trying to convince a woman with actual potential to go out with you. He could hardly remember what he had said or done at that exact moment when Misty nibbled on his lower lip that made her say yes but whatever it was, it must have been very, very good.

The past four months with Misty had been incredible. She was incredible. If he didn't know any better, he might even say he was falling in love with her, which made him feel even worse about lying to her, though he had no earthly idea why he hadn't corrected himself in front of her before now. Gary didn't know if it was out of respect for him or simply because she was content to avoid the issue, but the issue of his past had yet to come up. Even now as she breathlessly pulled away from his lips, he wasn't sure why she was even in this position with him in the first place if she indeed believed him to have such little regard for women.

He cast his eyes up and down her beautifully pale skin, over the soft swell of her breasts, to her flat stomach and down her long legs, taking deep breaths as she hooked her thumbs behind the waistband of his tented boxers, clearly intending to slowly inch them over the obvious obstacle and down his thighs. His mind continued to wage war with his body, so intent on making an escape before his secret got out while his body continued to react to her every touch with responses so bloody virginal it was an utter wonder she hadn't already noticed something was off! Seriously, what sort of whacked gift was this again?

"Is something wrong?" she asked softly, her hands suddenly halting their movements.

Inwardly he cringed as his eyes flew to her face, meeting her own curious eyes as she looked at him inquisitively.

"No, nothing," he replied a little too quickly, lying back down and closing his eyes. "Just, uh… keep doing what you're doing."

"Gary," she said slowly as she moved to lie at his side, laughing at his little groan. "Why are you so nervous?"

"I'm not nervous!" he retorted hotly.

"Yes, you are," Misty said as she laid a hand on his chest. "Your heart is beating a mile a minute. Is there something you want to tell me?"

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Nothing I can think of."

"Really?" Misty drawled, her fingers drawing light circles on his stomach. "Shall I continue then?"

His jaw clenched and he let out a little moan as her fingers strayed lower. "Go ahead," he ground out, unsure whether this would be the best or worst possible way to die.

"Hmm," she buzzed against his skin as she brushed light kisses over his abdomen and scraped her fingernails through the light trail of hair below his bellybutton. "You're sure now?"

Gary groaned in response, his body tensing painfully under her touch.

Misty sighed. "How about I make this easier for you?" She rolled off him, coming to lie on her back beside him. "How about you get to know your way around me instead?"

He shot her a look of suspicion. "What makes you think I don't?"

She gave a small smile. "Gary, stop it. I know you're a… you know... virgin."

His jaw dropped, and not because her hand had snaked beneath the waistband of his boxers again. "How did you… when did… how?" he spluttered.

"I don't think you could have been more obvious about it, do you?" she said laughingly, her fingers grazing his length quite deliberately now as his hips bucked lightly into the touch. "You're not as good an actor as you fancy yourself to be, Gary."

He closed his eyes, his jaw clenching shut. "Alright, you got me. What are you going to do now?"

"I suppose that depends on you," she replied casually, leaning over to kiss him lightly on the lips. "What do you want me to do?" she asked softly. "If you want, we can stop, or I can keep giving you your present…" She let the sentence trail off suggestively, subtly raking her eyes up and down his body.

"You aren't mad or anything?" he asked confusedly.

She laughed again, an almost musical tinkling. "Why on earth would I be mad? You've hardly led me on or anything like that."

"Yeah, but…"

"I guessed you were a virgin long before tonight," she told him gently, withdrawing her hand from his boxers and sitting up in front of him. "With all the stuff that gets written about you in magazines, I was a little confused as to why you never made a move, but after thinking about it for a while and seeing how you acted with me it all made sense."

"That obvious, was I?" he muttered bitterly, his eyes fixed on the small silver pendant hanging from her neck that he gave her earlier that day as he too sat up, resting against the headboard of his bed.

"Terribly," she replied with an affectionate smile. "But it was really sweet."

He looked up at her sheepishly. "I take it you're not…?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm not, but it's not like I'm very experienced either." She blushed profusely. "I've only slept with one guy, and it only happened twice... in the one night."

"Ash?" he asked resignedly, taking her silence for confirmation before looking up and finding her blushing harder than ever. "Not Ash?"

"Not Ash," she muttered, moving her bangs to hide her face.

"Oh," he said awkwardly, feeling the previously sensual and romantic atmosphere of the room go to hell in that minute as she started to almost glow in the dim light with embarrassment. "You don't have to tell me who it was, Red," he said bracingly as she met his eyes again. "No need to be so embarrassed."

"No, I should tell you, while we're getting secrets off our chests," she said with an air of nervousness. "But I should say first that I was… drunker than I care to admit when it happened."

"That's how most good stories start," Gary replied with a grin.

"Those stories are usually fun and you aren't ashamed to bring them up afterwards," Misty sniffed. "And while the man in question and I remain friends, we've never spoken of it since, nor have I ever told anyone."

Gary felt a twinge of disappointment course through him as Misty leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve the silky red gown with white trim she had been wearing earlier and wrap it carefully around herself, covering her amazing body from his gaze.

She drew a deep breath and began her tale. "It was at Delia's Christmas party last year. I'm pretty sure everyone _but_ you was there. Anyway, Delia made these drinks… I don't exactly know what they were, but they smelled like candy canes and tasted delicious. I think I got through about eight of them before I kind of stumbled upstairs, though I have no clue why, and fell on Ash's bed, but there was already someone in there."

Misty blushed brightly and took another deep, almost shaky breath. "It was Brock."

Gary raised an eyebrow and replied, "Rock boy, huh?"

"Yes," Misty responded tightly, clenching her eyes shut.

"Not all that shocking, really."

"Huh?" Misty eyes shot open and her neck snapped up. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Gary shrugged. "I'd have been more surprised if you'd said Tracey or someone else. If it wasn't going to be Ash your first time out you probably couldn't have done much better. At least it was with someone you trust and not some stranger."

"Huh," Misty said again, more contemplative that time. "I never really thought of it like that."

"I am very smart and wise," he said solemnly, smiling as she giggled. "Thank you for telling me."

She chuckled lightly. "You had to part with a pretty heavy secret; it was only fair that I should too."

"Maybe," he conceded with a nod. "But mine would have come out either way, yours wouldn't have. Unless, of course, you screamed Brock's name out instead of mine," he added with a wicked smirk, laughing at her mock affronted look.

"So sure you'll make me scream your first time out, Oak?" she said, throwing her hair back in challenge.

He grinned, reaching over to push the silky slip of fabric over her shoulders, feeling the nervousness that had hung over him give way to excitement, anticipation and heady arousal as she was bared once more to his gaze. "Like I said, I'm very smart and wise."

She laughed and inched forward, speaking against his lips, "I think it's time you put your money where your mouth is."

"And what do I get when I win?"

" _When_ you win?" she repeated with playful incredulity. " _If_ you can make me scream then I might not tell everyone we know that you aren't the man we all thought you to be."

He pulled back from her lips, his eyes narrowed slightly. "You wouldn't."

She giggled and swung a leg over his waist and pushed him down to the bed. "It's called an incentive."

"Sounds more like blackmail," Gary muttered under his breath, gasping and squeezing his eyes shut as she scraped her nails lightly down his chest.

"Would it make you feel any better if I told you I love you?"

His eyes snapped open once more, finding her staring at him with an expression of unflinching adoration and vulnerability.

"Much better," he whispered, reaching around her neck to bring her lips back to his, kissing her once more with an intensity that burned him from the inside out, singing their very souls.

"I love you too, Red," he panted against her lips when they finally pulled apart. "Now, I believe we still have the small matter of your gift to take care of?"

She smirked so wickedly at that moment there was absolutely no room for doubt that she was his. With another quick, searing kiss she grabbed his boxers and yanked them down his legs, throwing them to the corner of the room. She then guided his hands around her back to the clasp of her lacy bra.

"You do it," she whispered.

"Gladly," he all but growled, pulling the hooks apart and flinging the offending garment away, fixing his gaze on the soft, creamy swell of her breasts.

Before he could reach out to touch her properly she got up, standing before him in nothing but a tiny scrap of lace that had no earthly business being called 'underwear'. She all but tore the delicate fabric away, leaving her body bare for his eyes before quickly throwing herself back atop the bed.

"Oh, God," he groaned as she swung a leg over his stomach and slid down on his length until he was fully seated inside her. "Merry Christmas, Red."


End file.
